Recognition
by Des1996
Summary: What would happen if Bella and Edward already knew each other? Before Bella makes the fateful move to go live with her father, She gets transported for the night of her life into 1918 Chicago. How will this change the story we all love? And what repercussions will the duo face? I know this has been done a thousand times, but give it a chance :). Constructive Criticism Welcome
1. Chapter 1

As the deep sound of the final bell of the school day let out, I grinned to myself and packed up my things; wanting to get out of Biology as fast as possible. I couldn't say that I was excited that I'm moving to Forks to live with my father, but I also couldn't say I was disappointed either. My mother needs to be with her husband while he's away, and I was the only reason she stayed behind so it was a logical solution, right?

I tucked my plain brown hair behind me year as I shoved my blue binder marked 'Biology' into my backpack. I stood up as my best friend, Claire, walked over with sadness covering her face. If I missed anything the most from Arizona, it would definitely be Claire. We've been best friends since the first day at Kindergarten, when she bounced over to me during recess - with her blue eyes shining their usual brightness and her dirty blonde hair brushed into curly pigtails – and offered to play with me on the playground since my shy self was too cowardly to ask. We've been pretty much inseparable since; from slumber parties every weekend to vacations together, we've never had a reason not to hang out. But she understood my reasoning to leave, but that doesn't mean that she has to like it.

"Hey, Bella," She tried to smile, but dropped it as soon as we both knew that she couldn't pull it off. We made our way through the busy throng of our fellow students, all rushing to enjoy the usual Phoenix sun after a long Friday of tests and assessments. "You excited for the move?" I threw her a small smile, glad she wasn't going to be mad at me for my decision.

"I think I'm getting the move jitters or something, 'cause I'm actually really nervous," I confessed, turning my combination onto the lock of my locker and pulling the door open. On Wednesday I turned all my books in so I didn't have too much to shove into my backpack; just a couple of binders and my favorite black jacket that I was wearing this morning. "But I'm excited to see my dad; it's been forever since I bothered to take a trip up to Washington." 3 years in fact. I was supposed to visit my dad over the summer every year for 2 weeks, but the past few years just haven't worked out for me to be able to. And part of me feels guilt over not seeing my father. But the other part of me thinks that he could come down here as well sometimes.

"Yeah, it has been forever since I've last seen Chief Sawn. Tell him I said hi, would you?" Oh yeah, my father is also the police chief of the miniscule-sized town of Forks, Washington – one of the main reasons I didn't like visiting him during the summers. Everybody would be hesitant to do anything around me; thinking I would immediately go tell my father like the good child that I am. Cue eye roll.

I smile at Claire as we get to the crossroad between our houses. "Sure thing," I answer. For a moment we just stand there looking at each other, the warm Arizona breeze brushing our hair into our faces. "Well," I bite my lip and look at the ground; not wanting to see the sad, lost puppy dog look in her eyes anymore. "I'll text you when I get to Forks?"

"No, you'll Skype me," Claire rolls her pretty blue eyes with a huff.

"Skype then," I smirk. I knew as soon as I said it that she would refuse and want to Skype; Claire hates texting with a passion. She always says that it's inhuman or unfeeling when people text each other. That you can't tell what their feeling; which is my blonde friend's favorite thing about people - their feelings and emotions. She says that it makes them human.

She pulls me into a hug and holds onto me, her manicured nails digging into my shoulders. When we separate, she smiles at me one more time. "Skype," She demands one last time, her finger pointing at me in a _do-as-I-say_ way. I laugh and nod in agreement as I turn away.

"See you later, Claire," I wave my hand over my shoulder as I continue my way toward my road so I could finish packing.

"See you, Bella," Claire's voice reaches my ears as I turn the corner. I look over my shoulder to see her skipping in the opposite direction as me toward her house – back to her usual self. With a smile and a shake of my head I start my way back to my house. Some part of me is holding onto the hope that we'll keep in touch even after the move through graduation. You never know what will happen.

Little did I know, my life was about to be flipped upside-down in less than two hours.

Packing for Forks as hard as I thought it was going to be. Since it was as cold as the Artic in the rainy Washington state compared to sunny Arizona, most of my clothes would have to be left behind. I wonder what Charlie felt about shopping trips, 'cause I was in a desperate need of one as soon as I land there tomorrow.

Placing my two suitcases and my backpack that was working as my carry-on by my bedroom door, I took a moment to look around my room. The bare, white walls held none of my childhood memorabilia, like a week ago. Mom was obviously busy with getting ready to go traveling with Phil as the rest of the house was the same. She told me earlier, before she left to go to the bar with him, that everything was in storage now that I'll be out of the house and those two will be all over the country. She didn't see any reason to keep them out to collect dust while nobody will be here; and to make sure nothing will get stolen. Renee was always paranoid about someone stealing her stuff so I tried not to be that surprised.

Now that everything was packed, I had nothing to keep my mind off of the move and everything that it entailed. New school, making new friends, new room, a fresh start. With all this change, I felt like the walls were closing in on me, keeping me trapped within them. I had to get out of here, get some fresh air. Grabbing my black jacket and tugging it on, I jumped off my porch and decided that I'm going to go window shopping until the bubble of panic in my chest calms down a little.

The mall strip of Phoenix was packed, not very unusual since it was a Friday night. All the school kids now having time to spend their allowances or paychecks with a later night curfew. 'Hunting Moons', the local bar and club, was overflowing with guests in a line that looked to be wrapping around the building – twice. The spray painted purple brick chipping with time, the neon pink sign flickering in the moonless night. Seeing the club made me think where my mom and Phil disappeared off to tonight. Maybe that's where they are? Shaking my head I continued my stroll down the street, knowing this will be my last chance in a while. Passing the club, I turn my head and notice a little, dainty shop hiding between the club and the butcher shop next to it. The sweaty smell of meat and the sharp stingy smell of alcohol mixing together in the air making me wrinkle my nose and focus on that; almost making me miss the shop in between them. I looked up at the sign, my nose still wrinkling in distaste from the smell. The sign read 'Roster's Antiques est. 1917'.

I looked around and noticed that most people were walking by the shop without a glance to it. Was the shop that bad? Were there no quality things in there? I was wondering as person after person just strolled by the shop, not even hesitating to go in like myself. I hear my father's voice in my head, some advice from when I was younger and would go visit him in the summer without fighting tooth and nail the whole way. When I actually liked going fishing with him.

_You'll never know unless you jump in head first yourself, Bells._ He would say as he wired a fishing pole for me. _Never take people's word on something as pure gold, try it for yourself first before you make a permanent decision_. Nodding to myself, I straightened my shoulders and wrapped my hands around the cold door handle to pull the door open.

A bell chimed as the smudged glass door opened and closed. Inside didn't look much better than the door. Random furniture was scattered throughout the small space, dust looking like it was taking its sweet-ole time collecting on the many surfaces. Toward the back of the store I saw a chubby bald man with the signature Arizona tan wave from the dark wood counter and pointed to the back door to signal that he was going to the back. I nodded and looked around – trying to figure out which direction to start in. Shrugging, I turned left and decided I'd make a full circle around the store while the worker was out in the back.

There was anything you could imagine in here. Mirrors, sofas, chairs, tables, vases, and even a bathroom sink. I laughed as I walked around the porcelain, to see what was behind it. More vases and old jewelry cases were stacked haphazardly on top of each other in no particular order. To the left of that was an armoire with chipped cherry wood and a handle missing. The other door to it was swung open revealing all that lied within; which I have to say wasn't much. A ratted red scarf with a pair of black dress heels peeked out from under a man's torn tan dress slacks and matching dress shoes, but what caught my eye was the photo that was trapped under the man's shoe. I traipsed around the vases and hanging jewelry and pulled open the other door to the armoire open so that I could see what else it was holding. Nothing much became my conclusion, just more ratted old clothes and shoes. I lifted the man's shoe to look at the black and white photo. There were two males and one female. The female, obviously the wife, had her arm around a tall, older looking man – probably her husband. The husband hand his hand clapped on the shoulder of the other guy who looked just as tall with a crooked smile, his bright eyes shining. I don't know why, but I found it hard to look away from him. Maybe it was that he stood out too much from the other two people in the picture.

Where they were all prim and proper – the man in a suit and the women in an elegant dress – he only wearing dress pants and what looked like a black dress shirt with their sleeves rolled up to his elbows. I think that it was his hair was what caught my attention so much though. It blew in every which direction as if the wind was crazy that day or he just rolled out of bed and had no way of controlling it. The husband and wife's hair were in perfect position, making me believe it wasn't the day's wind that was making his hair that way. I guess it was just his way of styling it. I flipped over the fragile paper to see the date '1918, Chicago' on the back, making me wonder how it got all the way to Arizona from the great windy city.

"Go ahead and take it, the things not worth a penny," A southern accent said out of nowhere, making me go 3 feet in the air, almost knocking over the dusty vases. "Sorry about that, Sweetheart. I thought you heard me."

"It's alright, I should've been paying attention," I took a few deep breaths and held up the photo, silently asking if he was serious.

He waves a hand away from him, as if it doesn't matter. "Don't know why you'd want, but go ahead and take it. I've had this here armoire since I moved the store from Illinois, and still haven't been able to sell it." I guess that's how it got here from Chicago. "Go scamper off before I change my mind, Sweetheart." I smile and thank him about five times, which he just waves his hand away at each time, before I exit the store and start to make my way back to my house to get some sleep. My watch reads 9:55 p.m., so I have about 14 hours before my flight to Washington.

When I get home, I shower and slip into my pajamas before setting the Chicago photo in my backpack and climbing under my sheets. As I close my eyes and drift to sleep, Black and white shining eyes and a crooked smile filter through my dreams the whole night, playing like an old film in my head. Black and white images of the teenage guy with the wild hair playing baseball in the park with other faceless boys, eating turkey and laughing with the husband and wife, sitting at a piano with his eyes closed as his long elegant fingers float across the black and white keys, lying in a hospital bed alone with his eyes closed – pale and covered in sweat from a fever.

I don't know why but the last image is the one that scares me the most; that makes me want to cry and hold him and ask him what's happening. I don't know why, but I feel like I know this teenager from the photo, like he means something to me. Or he's going to at least.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey Guys! Sorry the update took so long! I truly appreciate all the reviews and critiques! :)**

I wake up, gasping; my head weaving in and out of my sleeping state – back to the crooked smile – and to the real world. Confusion swept over me as I thought about my dream. The boy from the photo, seeing him in his daily life – with his family, at the park, and in the hospital bed – seemed so real to me. It was as if I was standing right there alongside him, experiencing everything for the first time with him. He looked so real and I don't even know his name._ Of course he's real, Bella,_ I shook my head at myself._ He was real in 1918 at least_. That got me wondering what could've possibly happened in that time period that would put him in that hospital with that dreadful looking fever. Just recalling the image made my chest hurt and ache. Why was that? Like just the thought of him hurt and in pain caused me my own set of pain?

I'm so lost in my thoughts that as I get out of my bed that I almost didn't notice the change in my comforter. The virgin white color caught the corner of my eye as I spun, shocked, and get twisted in it as I fall to the floor; my back banging on the cement under the carpet. Gripping the soft velvet in between my hands, I blink up at the changed bed wondering how in the world this happened. I never remember Renee bringing home this particular bed set – a gorgeous pure white with lace swirls on the comforter and pillow cases. And how did she change it while I was sleeping?

I wasn't in my grey sweatpants and ratted black t-shirt anymore either. Somehow, they got switched out with a flowing purple silk gown that ran down to my knees, the shoulders slightly wrinkled from all the movement I made in my sleep. Rubbing the fabric between my thumb and forefinger gently, my eyebrows scrunched together. _How in the world…?_ I thought looking around at my unchanged surroundings. The sky blue walls and outdated brown carpet still resembled my room to me.

Padding softly across the room on my tip toes; I raised my hand to my doorknob and gave my wrist a sharp twist. It turned a fourth of the way before halting; just like it always does when I lock my door. Call me paranoid, but I always feel that little bit safer when I lock my bedroom door at night when Renee and Phil – her new husband – decide they're going to be out partying all night. My mind always shouts at me that just locking my door won't stop any burglar or murderer if they broke in, but hey, it helps me sleep better at night. But with the lock still engaged; that still leaves a question running through my mind. Who broke in and how did they get in?

Confused as can be, I figured I'd get ready and just mention it to Renee as casually as I can before I get on the plane to go to Seattle. Last night was my last night in Arizona and Renee and Phil were never home anyways, so not my problem anymore right?

_That sounds like a good plan to me_ I thought as I reached for my backpack for my change of clothes only to be met with my carpet. What the hell? I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before counting to ten and back before I opened my eyes and looked to where I could swear on my life I placed my backpack and suitcase last night before I went to sleep. Nope still only see my bedroom carpet. "Ok, now this is just getting ridiculous," I groaned as I got up to look for it. First my bed, then my pajamas and now this! Calling the struggle bus seems like a good idea for me today. Not knowing where to start in my room, I thought my armoire seemed like a good choice for now. The chipped black painted beauty standing in the far corner of my room for as long as I could remember. I think it was a 'welcome to the new house' gift from Renee when we first moved here when I was little. I used to hide away there for hours with my books and a couple flashlights with Claire; that would always freak out Renee when she couldn't find us, after all the times she would never remember to look there. I grasped the black handles of the worn antique and gently tugged on the metal.

Opening my armoire revealed not my suitcase, nor my backpack, but instead a bunch of assorted dresses. Pinks and purples and blue and greens of all shades popped out at me as they welcomed the new room the opened doors provided. Every one of them were as beautiful as they were old-fashioned as they were new. With my mouth practically touching the floor, I ripped the dresses off of their hangers and threw them onto the carpet as I searched and searched through the mess for something – anything – that resembled my regular clothing. Absolutely nothing. Nada. Obsolete. These dresses, though beautifully made, looked as if they belonged in some antique store in New York for people wanting to put on believable reenactments of plays from the late 1800's. Or maybe a museum in Chicago with some kind of fashion through the decades theme. I'd bet these would be perfect for the World War One era of the decade. But they certainly do not belong in my shabby armoire.

Looking at the mess on the floor, I felt bubbles of laughter start to make their way up my throat. This was all just so ridiculous! Here I was, standing in the middle of a pile of expensive-looking, old-fashioned dresses in the middle of what looked to be my room, and I was supposed to be on a plane to Seattle soon with absolutely no clue where any of my packed stuff was at! How much more weird could this possibly get!

I shook my head as I thought back to all the prank wars my best friend and I have had through the years, wondering how the hell she pulled this one off. She was good, but this was extremely good even for her.

"Ok, Claire. Nice job," I giggled, reaching to try and clean up the mess of colorful fabric all over my floor. As my laughter subsided and all that took its place was a deafening silence and not my best friend's chime-bell laughter to follow mine, I stood ramrod straight; dropping a particularly cute lavender dress that was covered head to seam in a dark purple lace. I looked around, trying to spot her long blonde hair, with the black headband she usually wore with it to make her ocean eyes pop out more.

"Claire?" I called out, dropping to look under my bed. Just some dust and the corner of my fallen comforter. Now this was just getting annoying. "It was funny at first, Claire," I snapped, tired of playing with her. I had a flight to catch soon. "Now come on, where's my suitcase?" All that answered me was the creak of my armoire door swinging, still open.

Having enough of the games, I threw my hands up and picked up the first dress that caught my eye. I swore I was going to go over to Claire's house and give her a piece of my mind if she actually did this. But there was no way I was walking over there in this silk night gown-thingy. Then as I picked up the lavender dress with dark purple lace from before, a tiny voice in the back of my head wondered how I would react if this wasn't one of Claire's funny little pranks…. I told that voice to shush it and I'd get back to it if that was actually the case.

Somehow, the dress fit perfectly and flowed to my feet in wave after wave of lavender rivers. The fabric was soft against my skin, feeling more like a pillow of clouds than I thought that fabric actually could. The sleeves of the dress covered all of my shoulders and went down to my wrists. I gazed at the dark purple lace for a few moments, traveling and weaving this way and that to form a never ending swirl of dark contrast to the light shade of the background fabric. It sort of reminded me of how my thoughts were running through my head right now. So many questions running around and around with no end or answers in sight. I shook my head and went back to my armoire to find some kind of shoes to wear with this. My tennis shoes would certainly not do with this dress; with how expensive and elegant it looked. Of course all of my shoes were replaced along with my clothes. All that was left were a few pairs of different colored heels. None of the heels looked to go too high in inches so I wasn't that worries, but I still bit my lip. I was so going to kill Claire; she knows how much of a klutz I am.

I grabbed the black pair before slipping them on and turning to look into my mirror. Now I have always hated when people say that after they get all dolled up with a makeover they say that they can't believe it's them in the mirror, it looks like someone else who is much prettier, blah, blah, blah. I knew this was me. I could recognize my flat brown eyes and wavy brown hair that fell over my purple covered shoulders, but still I have to admit…. This was a fantastic dress for how old the style was. It was 1900's styled, but I somehow looked like I belonged in it. It was a weird sensation I wasn't used to feeling. Like I was finally finding my place, there were just a few more things to adjust and I would be in my destined place in the world.

I scoffed and shook my head. Destiny? I must be more mind-screwed with this morning than I thought. There's no such thing as destiny. You made your own choices in life; you lead your own life, control it and make it the way you want to; that's what I've always believed in. Why was I suddenly thinking about destiny? I rolled my eyes as I finger-combed my hair, trying to get it to look less like a rat's nest and more acceptable.

Taking a deep breath, I reeled myself for the pointing and staring that was sure to wait for me on the other side of my door. I had to lunge to grasp onto my doorknob when my ankles wobbled to the sides in these heels. Pulling myself back up, I hesitated – just for a moment to gather myself – before I turned the knob and opened to see the bright sunlight of the day blind me; causing me to cover my eyes with my hand as I stepped out and closed the door behind me.

As I turned back to walk over to Claire's house, I gasped and stumbled back to grab the door for support for - not clumsiness this time – but in shock.

I seem to have stepped into another world altogether. This place didn't even look like my street where my house was supposed to be. I looked back and jumped away from the door when I realized it wasn't even my house. Instead of my mother's shabby one-story, a blue Victorian style apartment seemed to have taken its place. I raised my shaking hand to twist the knob to find it would turn about a fourth of the way and then freeze with no more movement in that direction.

"Impossible," I breathed out. Turning to look back at the people on the street, I surveyed them while trying not to look like I was staring at them like a gaping fish. 'Cause let's admit it…. I was!

Everyone seems to have thought it was dress from the 20th century day today as men walked by me without a glance at the old-fashioned dress I was wearing; since they were wearing tailored suits of black and tan, some with top hats and some even walking with _canes_! Their black shoes were polished without even a speck of dirt clouding the shine form the dirty street they walked on.

The women were wearing dresses in the same fashion as mine, just with little differences here and there. Some had different colors, instead of lace there would be ribbons, some more busty, some with ruffles, and some with just one plain color and nothing else. Like the men, some women wore fancy hats that could go on for days, but all of them carried little clutches for purses. They all trotted with either their nose in the air, their head down or chatting amongst each other as they went into the different shops on the crowded street. I bit my lip as I noticed another detail about these women that separated them and me – they all had their hair up. A couple were rocking out eh short bob style that I could never pull off, but anyone with hair longer than that had it pulled up in some way or fashion. _Well shit_. I tugged at my long brown hair that went practically to the ends of my shoulder blades almost and twisted it over my right shoulder.

I looked to the park across the street – _I was pretty dang sure there was no park in my neighborhood_ - and saw a couple of children playing. A group of young boys, no older than the age of 10, chasing each other around in their khakis pants and white button down shirts, making noises that sounded remotely like airplanes and exploding bombs; throwing their arms up into the air randomly as they laughed with each other. A couple young girls – probably no older than 7 or 8 I guessed – were sitting on a picnic blanket in little white dresses with black ribbons holding up their hair, combing their doll's hair as they giggled and looked to their mothers, who were chattering away like birds about some gossip or another.

I stepped down onto the sidewalk and tried my best to get out of the rushing people's way as they hurried about their day. While trying to dodge a particularly large man waving around a briefcase as if that'll give him more walking space, I accidentally bumped into an unassuming woman in a light pink dress with dark red ribbon wrapped this way and that all around it.

"I'm sorry, Miss" I apologized, heat blushing into my cheeks as I reached out to steady her, only to have my hand smacked away by a bright pink umbrella with flashing rhinestones. I looked up as the woman glared down at me and sniffed at my attire.

"The children of Chicago these days, so rude." Her nasally voice cracked in my ears. I almost snapped at her that I did say sorry when her first remark caught my attention. _Did she just say Chicago? How…? _I didn't have time to question her as she continued on her rant, seeming to have made it her minute goal to make me feel even more out of place. "And what in the good lord's name is wrong with your hair, child? Haven't your parents taught you that it's improper to wear it down in public?" She sniffed at my again with a roll of her eyes before strutting away as if she owned the place. _Well Chicago has wonderful reception_ I thought snidely as I turned to walk back down the street, wondering what in the world I was going to do. I mean, I was stuck in sometime-20th century Chicago! What was I supposed to do? _What if something happened or I did something and I changed the course of events and screwed time over? And why do I feel like I'm forgetting things?_

I should've learned in my 17 years that I, Isabella Swan, am not a person with the gift of being able to walk and not pay attention at the same time. You would think I have learned from the countless trips to the ER I have taken in my lifetime, but no. I still get lost in my thoughts and instead of stopping and sitting down before I hurt myself; I keep on walking thinking that nothing is going to happen.

As I was walking and worrying myself over my situation, the heel of my right black shoe got caught in the sidewalk, making me trip over first my feet and then the end of the dress as I tried to catch myself. I landed on my back on the hard pavement, my head slamming into the ground. I saw blurs that some people say are stars as I tried to clear my vision and grabbed my head as I struggled to pull myself off of my back and into a sitting position. All the things that happened next seemed to last forever, but I knew in reality were only a few seconds apart from each other.

First a high pitched scream sliced through the air somewhere to my right, making my pounding head ache and caused me to turn towards it. The after effect making me see what they were screaming about – _a black trolley-like car heading straight towards me_! The driver of the car seemed to realize this at the same time I did as he slammed on his horn and his brake, grabbing the wheel to swerve it. It seemed like I was frozen, unable to move out of the way of the car's path, something holding me there with an unstoppable force.

As I was mentally screaming at my muscles to move something, _anything_; a pair of steel arms wrapped around me and forced me up and away from the road into a tough chest as one arm moved to pick up my legs. My face was pressed into said chest that was covered in a black button down that smelled of cinnamon and sugar. Needless to say, it was the best thing I've ever smelled in my life.

My savior set me on the ground pulled back to look over my body – making sure I wasn't injured. Copper hair blew wildly in the wind's breeze, curling haphazardly with no attempt at being tame. It seemed so familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time to me, and for a reason I couldn't comprehend yet.

"Are you all right?" A deep voice asked me, bells ringing in the undertones. My savior lifted his face and bright green apple eyes shone into my brown ones as my face paled as everything dawned on me.

The man in the shop said the armoire was shipped to his shop from Illinois. The photo was time-marked 1918, Chicago. That nasty, rude woman ranted about the children of Chicago. I woke up to my own armoire filled to the brim with 20th century dresses – still no idea in hell how that happened. And my savior. He looked just like the man from the Chicago photograph… And the man from my dream.

"Miss?" My savior asked again a look of concern flashing across his face when mine paled even more as realization after realization dawned on me. "Ma'am!" He shouted, his hands grabbing onto my arms as I, of-freaking-course, fainted from the adrenaline pumping through my veins from almost being run over in 1918. No, of course it wouldn't be because I just met a man I saw in a photograph the night before and dreamed about him… That same night. Nope, I will still with the adrenaline theory. One thought coursing through my head as the blackness came over me. _Oh my God, it's him! _

**What do you guys think? Too much description? I thought personally there should've been more dialogue, but my justification to myself is that Bella was mostly by herself this chapter….. More dialogue next time I promise!**


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